"Well, of course, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said. "I thought I'd proved that to you. And, as for what you're about to ask—"
"No," Malone said. "Please. Let me ask the questions before you answer them. It's less confusing that way. I'll cheerfully admit that it shouldn't be—but it is. Please?"
"Certainly, Sir Kenneth, if you wish," the Queen said. She folded her hands in her lap and waited quietly.
"Okay," Malone said. "Now, if you can read my mind, then you must know that I don't really believe that you are Queen Elizabeth of England. The First, I mean."
"Mr. Malone," Barbara Wilson said suddenly. "I—"
"It's all right, child," the Queen said. "He doesn't disturb me. And I do wish you'd call him Sir Kenneth. That's his title, you know."
"Now that's what I mean," Malone said. "Why do you want us to act as if we believe you, when you know we don't?"
"Because that's the way people do act," the Queen said calmly. "Very few people really believe that their so-called superiors are superior. Almost none of them do, in fact."
"Now wait a minute," Boyd began.
"No, no, it's quite true," the Queen said, "and, unpleasant as it may be, we must learn to face the truth. That's the path of sanity." Lady Barbara made a strangled noise but Her Majesty continued, unruffled. "Nearly everybody suffers from the silly delusion that he's possibly equal to, but very probably superior to, everybody else—my goodness, where would we be if that were true?"